The Worst Who Saved Me
by Fen Jien Ren
Summary: On Hwoarang's ending at Tekken 5, Devil Jin comes to him for a fight but in the middle of it, Jin passed out! Unsatisfied, the Blood Talon nurses him to health but suddenly, the Korean finds himself promising to seal his rival's fate with death.
1. The Black Angel Falls

"**Black Feathers on the Bloody Talon**" by fENjiEn rEn  
_Jin & Hwoarang -centric Fan Fiction._

**DISCLAIMERS:** Namco owns Tekken and all of its characters.

**FULL SUMMARY:** At the end of Hwoarang's story in Tekken 5, Devil Jin goes to him for a fight. The Korean wins just because his rival was in his worst state ever, hence his win on this rematch was disregarded. Hwoarang nurses Jin to health to have another, fair match, but by the time Jin wakes up, he asks Hwoarang to kill him after a certain period of time, and Hwoarang agrees. However, as the time flies and the moment comes, Hwoarang becomes hesitant… but why? Jin is just a rival, isn't he? Someone he'd want to be gone forever, so why the sudden falter? And will Hwoarang win against a powerful demon, even if he wants to?

**WARNING:** The fic contains a gradually cursing Hwoarang, character death in the end, and very light shounen-ai, but no hugs or kisses or whatever. If you like yaoi, go read "The Punishment". It's also JinHwoarang, and it's actually my personal favourite.

**EDIT:** Sheesh! I'm finally done with the second version; it sure took a while. Most changes are at the end, so would you mind reading it?

**AUTHOR, Fenjien Ren:** For the first time in my entire life, I now have the chance to say this like everybody else! Everyone, please, rejoice with me!! A very big thanks to **Salysha**, the brains behind "Bedded Rivals", for beta-reading this chapter!! Yiiipeeee!!

(everybody cheers and demands for an update on "Bedded Rivals")

**BETA-READER and SUPER GENIUS, Salysha:** Thank you!

**CHAPTER ONE.  
"The Black Angel Falls."**

The man known as Blood Talon drove around, cutting from one car to another, chasing after someone who was invisible to everyone's eyes except his. He cursed beneath his breath as he steered his motorcycle faster through the dim-lighted street. His reason for competing in the King of Iron Fist Tournament 5 was to meet with his rival, and be pushed to his limits once more, even just for a draw. He loved that feeling of being challenged, the type of feeling where you'd lose your power to think and everything would depend on instinct and experience.

Money meant little to him; he wanted exactly as much as he needed to live on. He wanted power, but not the kind of corporate power that the so-called Mishima Zaibatsu had. He had dropped out of the tournament with cash in his pockets from his winnings. He wanted power in the form of physical strength; he wanted to be stronger than anyone else.

Despite his strength being proven over the fights in the tournament, he felt rather empty from winning over his rival, who didn't seem to care of his existence anymore. That Japanese, Jin Kazama, was the only one he felt equal with. He had wanted to fight that man as a rival who would force him to strive to be stronger, but that man had just walked away from him… after a fight that hadn't even lasted half an hour because of the restraint on the Japanese's behalf.

"This sucks." Hwoarang frowned just a little, steaming off a bit of his annoyance. He looked straight at his path, not really paying attention, but enough to know he was heading the right way and, for that, he failed to notice the man standing on his path until from twenty meters away. "Huh?" His eyes widened upon the familiar yet different form, not inching away, as he approached. Hwoarang turned his bike, trying to stop the hot wheels from going any faster, but before he could even slow down, an explosion sent him away from his now flaming black bike.

The red-headed Korean flew to the ground, having a rather safe fall with no serious injuries at all. He felt his body hurt and a part of his chest ache as he unwontedly flew away. Hwoarang pressed his hands to the ground and struggled to stand; he gritted his teeth and made sure not to take his sight off his corrupted rival. "You stupid…" He managed to stand, although with a bit of difficulty, but he could've gone through worse if he hadn't been lucky. "Come on!" He raised his fists and stood in ihis fighting stance with a smile on his face, pleased with another phase of challenge.

The demon bent his knees, letting his arms hang lifeless between his legs, giving off a taunting gesture. A deep smirk played on his dark lips, as he stretched out his black wings, fluttering them for a little while before taking off at a ravaging speed. The Korean followed the creature with his eyes. It flew over him and, to his surprise, crimson liquid mizzled down on him like an average rainfall. "What the hell?!"

Hwoarang wiped his face dry with the back of his hand, but with that, the feather-winged devil took his opportunity and commenced an attack. It gave a deep, throaty roar as it flew and prepared his claw. The Korean was unprepared with his hazed eyesight. He knew he was about to take a hit, but he couldn't move, because he didn't know where the devil was going to come from.

He knew it was coming, though he couldn't see… He could feel it. The Blood Talon gritted his teeth andtook his stance, giving his full trust to his instincts right then. He turned to his right and readied his leg for one strong kick, but before he could throw his hit, a large weight fell down on his body. The Korean fell to the ground, along with the foreign mass. He struggled to move himself away from it, and then finally took the time to wipe off the blood that had fallen in his eyes.

"Kazama?" He stared down at his rival, who was slowly changing back to normal. His hair started to grow short, his black wings were hidden back beneath his skin and his dark markings started to thaw out. "Man, your blood stinks." He straightened to his knees and stood up, wiping his nose with a finger. He glared down at the unconscious Japanese and rested his hands on his hips. "Dangsineul bukkeureoun!"_ (You're so disgraceful!)_

Hwoarang scratched the back of his head, trying not to take that he had practically lost again. He turned around, just wanting to forget and leave every single thing behind, but he couldn't… and that pissed him off. He couldn't just leave Jhis rival in the middle of the street like this, since he wasn't just anyone to begin with.

"I've got to be losing my mind." He leaned down and pulled his rival up on his back. "I'm giving one shitty bastard a goddamn piggy-back. I hope he doesn't remember, anyway, and, by any chance, let me not meet anyone I fucking know along the way. " He groaned and walked all the way towards the nearest apartment he could find, with Jin senseless on his back.

The red-headed Korean had bought a new apartment, where they could spend the night. The room, unfortunately, had just one bed; it was the only thing he had been able to afford right then. As he walked up the stairs, everyone gave him _the look,_ but he couldn't do anything about it at the moment. "Man, I'm really going to have you pay for all the pain and shame you're giving me right now."

He sighed and was finally relieved at the sight of the door. He took the knob and twisted it, moving himself in. Hwoarang glared at the people swarming in the hallway. "DAMN YOU ALL!" he gave one last curse and closed the door with a kick.

Hwoarang headed to the bed and laid the unconscious man down… Actually, it was more like he threw him down, rather than laid him down gently. He turned his head to the side. His neck gave a soft snap. "Hey, Kazama, you piece of shit! Kkaeda!" He annoyedly stared down at the form that didn't even twitch from his yells. "Man, I swear, I could kill you right now!" He gritted his teeth, but before he got himself more pissed off, he headed to the bathroom and took a shower. _(Wake up!)_

He turned the shower on and stood under its drizzles. He leaned his head on the tiled wall and rested his eyes for a moment. "Man, this is so not cool…," he sighed and turned the shower off. Hwoarang reached out to a towel and dried himself up fast, got into some new clothes and headed out to buy some things to stitch and help recover the fresh wounds on Jin's body.

He slid a hand to brush his long red hair up. "Haish!"

He worked on his rival's wounds right after getting back and, with his touches, Hwoarang found out that Jin was having a light fever. "Such a pain." He took some cold water in fridge and transferred it to a round container afterwards. The Korean rummaged through his things and took out a towel, which he soaked with the cold water, and then put it on his rival's forehead.

"I can't believe this…" Setting all complains aside, he looked after his rival the entire night. He pulled a chair beside the occupied bed and waited patiently for the long night to pass. His eyelids started to feel heavy and, along with that, his body started to ache after all that he had done. He couldn't believe it; he had troubled himself doing all sorts of things for his Japanese rival, whom he had fought to a draw.

After Hwoarang found himself lying on the floor for the night, he cursed that the very first thing he had done right in his whole life had to be for Jin. He normally would've left him lying there and, for all he cared, even die there in the middle of the street. But that wasn't what he had done… He had taken him in and even treated his wounds.

"Good Lord, my head's pounding like crazy." He massaged his temples as he got up from the cold floor. He took a glance at the clock on the side table; it read 6:42. He complained and scratched his head. It was too early for him to get up, but he felt that it would be impossible to go back to sleeping, and so he wandered off and started making some breakfast.

It was just a few minutes to seven when the Japanese awakened, much to his luck just as Hwoarang has just finished making breakfast. But at that moment, Jin didn't know where he was and why. He turned his head towards the light, to the window, and just relaxed for a while until questions surged in his mind. He turned to the other side after a while and tried to recognize the place, but he failed. The place was new to him, and he hadn't seen one inch of it before.

"Hey, a shitty morning to you," the red-headed Korean greeted. He stood by the doorframe with his hand behind his neck, confidently looking down at his finally awoken _patient_. Jin turned to his slowly and replied with no surprise nor any kind of emotion painted on his face, "Good morning."

Hwoarang smirked, putting his hand down. He looked down at his rival. "First things first—don't move too much, not that I care if it gets you killed, but I just don't want my efforts go to waste and my mattress be stained with your stinking blood. I've sewn your wounds, but I don't know if I did them right, since I'm not used to doing it to someone else. They might be a bit loose, or whatever…."

Jin stared darkly at the Korean, unblinking, his mouth shut tightly.

Hwoarang had his back bent a little as he glared back down at him, his hands resting on his hips. The Korean furrowed his brows and spoke in an irritated tone, "Morago?!" But the Japanese kept silent, and then broke the eye contact after a few seconds. _(What?!)_ "_Hasih_." He scratched the back of his head and straightened up, still not taking his eyes off from his rival. Hwoarang tilted his head to the side, and averted his eyes from his _patient_. "I made breakfast, but you can go back to sleep if you want and never wake up again, for all I care." He turned his back and walked out as he spoke, waving his hand infuriatingly.

Jin's gaze moved down, and then followed the form that slowly walked away. "Kam sa... ham ni... da," he spoke hoarsly.

"That's _kamsahamnida_, man. But if you're talking to some bullshit like me, it's just _komapsumnida_." Hwoarang hid a smile. "Try not to dry your brain up with my foreign language, man. Besides,I've already known a handful of your words, and I think that's already more than enough." He tapped the doorframe with his palm and left with a hand in his pocket. _(Kamsahamnida is formal, Komapsumnida is the informal way of saying 'thank you'.)_

Jin Kazama just stared at the now empty space. He couldn't move a muscle; even speaking was hard for him, but he would have felt worse for not thanking someone who deserved it. His mother had taught him well, and he would do his best to live up to her teachings. Parallel to his love for his mother was his hatred towards his father. He would have done anything to have all bonds with him severed and forgotten. No one ever told him about Kazuya Mishima, but that no longer was a great issue to him. Now that he had seen him face to face and had his own flesh and blood try to kill him for the power of the Devil Gene, he considered himself an orphane, even though he wasn't completely orphaned. His mother had been his only family, and she would always be… The one and only he would ever consider calling family.

"By the way, man, I ain't good at cooking, so suck it all up. You're the burden here, anyway." Hwoarang returned with a bowl in each hand, his long hair neatly tied back. He tilted his head to the side, and his heck made a simple cracking sound, as he walked to the bed. "Can you sit by yourself, Kazama? You mustn't force yourself, so tell me if you can't."

Jin said nothing, not minding the Korean at all. He was in deep though, but he was aware of another's existence, nevertheless. He knew he could answer a simple 'yes' or 'no', but for a reason, he didn't bother. He felt a little heavy at heart, and weighed down by gravity and time.

"Should I take that as a no?" the Blood Talon glared at his rival,who did not speak a word or move a muscle. "Man, you're such a pain! I can't believe I had a draw with you!" Irritated, he laid the bown down on the wooden chair beside the bed and cracked his knuckles before helping Jin sit up.

"Arigato…" Jin whispered as he held tightly on to his aide. _(Thank you.)_

"Yeah, yeah," Hwoarang brushed it off and straightened up. He turned to his side, picked up the bowls and handed one to his rival. "Here's breakfast. It's just soup, but I rarely make that, so the taste sucks." Jin slowly and weakly reached for his food and cradled the bowl with both of his hands in his lap. He looked at the simple, warm soup prepared for him. "Arigato." He looked up.

"Man, say that the fourth time, and I'm going to rip your wounds open. Don't go pussy-pissy-sissy over a bowl of shit, or else I'm gonna kill myself in shock that I fought a draw with you." The Korean threw himself on his chair and thanked for the food, as was his strange custom. "Jaar mukgaetsnida."

Jin turned back to the bowl and thanked for the food as well. "Itte dakimasu." It was a custom taught by his mother that he had not forgotten once not. He treasured his memories of her, and all the things she had taught. She was the only person he had believed in, and never would he forget a single thing she had said. He had memorized her face, her voice, everything she had been... and why not? After all, she was the only family he had ever had.

Jin had never had any real friends, even at school. Maybe a few faces he could recognize, but nothing more than that. He really never cared about anyone outside his bloodline and a few people who had served him in his grandfather's mansion. It had never bothered him, because he had been told by his grandfather that he didn't really need friends. Ties would only become a weakness, and a fighter like him could not afford any.

Hwoarang, on the other had, had a handful of friends, not that he was ever so sure to call them that, since he really didn't trust them. That didn't bother the Korean; not that he had been told that ties were a weakness, but because he had never felt he needed them. He had never sought for something so useless; it would have been just a waste of time. But, he would have been there if others had needed him. Of course, his own interests would have come first.

"Man,this totally tastes like crap," Hwoarang snickered and stood up with an empty bowl in hand. "You finished?"

Jin nodded and carefully handed his bowl. The Korean headed out and washed the bowls clean right away. Jin was left alone in the room for a while, and that silence, broken only by the sound of running water, made him think deeply. There had been so many times that he could've ended the Mishima bloodline, but he had always hesitated to do so. Every moment of his life, he swore to kill his ancestors and erase the Devil Gene from everyone's lives.

"Hey, Kazama!" Hwoarang called as he returned, went back in; wiping his hands dry. "It's time to change your bandages, man."

Jin knew why he could never do what he was sworn to do: because he wanted his family to be together. At the back of his mind, though, not only did he believe that there was little hope of getting everything back to normal; he knew also that that was no longer possible. As a person, as a grandson, as a son and as Jin Kazama, he had dreams and fears, guilt and conscience, and that was just what he needed to take care of to be finally able to take a life.

"Tell me if it hurts, all right?" Hwoarang sat beside Jin and started loosening the bandages around Jin's body.

He also knew how to get rid of those that held him back, and the solution was so simple yet… insane, or rather, inhumane. The Japanese had never thought he'd come to this decision out of is own free will. He hated it, and with all the fiber of his humanity, he cursed it, and now, he was asking for it. He used to run away from it as fast and he could, and now he was walking back to its tight grasp.

"Hwoarang, can I ask you something?"

In order to lose all feelings that pulled him away from his avowed duties, to finally put an end to the cursed gene and to finally put himself to rest…

"Depends on what you're gonna ask."

…to be able to forget all of his childish dreams and absurd fears that held him back despite his deep hatred…

"I just want you to do something for me."

…to bury his guilt and conscience to the deepest depth of his humanity so no one, not even himself, could ever find it…

"It still depends, man. What is it, anyway?"

…he would make a pact with the devil and let it consume him…

"Kill me after a month."

…completely.

**END OF CHAPTER ONE.**

**A/N:** As far as I know, 'Haish' is an expression used by Koreans when they're irritated or something.

**Salysha:** That dialog that runs ont the side when Jin asks Hwoarang for a favor—wicked!! But damn—you are going to make this into a character death story? Double damn. Captivating story, though. I can't wait to read more soon!

**Fenjien:** You know, I was supposed to delete all of Salysha's comment but I didn't and that's just because I liked them. XD


	2. Life

"**Black Feathers on the Bloody Talon**" by fENjiEn rEn  
_Jin & Hwoarang__ -centric Fan Fiction._

**DISCLAIMERS:** Namco owns Tekken and all of its characters.  
**  
FULL SUMMARY:** At the end of Hwoarang's story in Tekken 5, Devil Jin goes to him for a fight. The Korean wins just because his rival was in his worst state ever, hence his win on this rematch was disregarded. Hwoarang nurses Jin to health to have another, fair match, but by the time Jin wakes up, he asks Hwoarang to kill him after a certain period of time, and Hwoarang agrees. However, as the time flies and the moment comes, Hwoarang becomes hesitant… but why? Jin is just a rival, isn't he? Someone he'd want to be gone forever, so why the sudden falter? And will Hwoarang win against a powerful demon, even if he wants to?f

**WARNING:** The fic contains a gradually cursing Hwoarang, character death in the end, and very light shounen-ai, but no hugs or kisses or whatever. If you like yaoi, go read "The Punishment". It's also JinHwoarang, and it's actually my personal favourite.

**AUTHOR, Fenjien Ren:** For the second time in my life, I will say this again to prove myself that I am NOT dreaming! Everyone, please, cheer with me once more! Have all the beers brought out and be feasted on! Cheers for the awesome **Salysha**, who's behind "Bedded Rivals" and "Unforgivable Crime", for beta-reading the second chapter!! Yaaaaay!!

(Everybody cheers and demands for an update on "Bedded Rivals" alongside Fenjien Ren.)

**Salysha:** blush Thanks!

**CHAPTER TWO.  
"Life."**

Jin sat still, hoping, at least, not to make it harder for Hwoarang, who was treating him surprisingly nice. The Korean carefully loosened the bandages covering Jin's body, while Jin started a rather awkward conversation about a request. The redhead listened to his words and answered them just right, but by the time the Japanese had revealed his true intent, the Korean had falleninto a wordless abyss. He suddenly stopped changing the dressings and held tightly onto the new ones.

"What did you say?" Hwoarang watched his fingers twitch for an unknown reason. He furrowed his brow and certainly hid his face behind the other's back. When the words registered with him, his heart felt a little pinch. He felt disturbed, but he didn't know why. Maybe it was because he had never really taken a life before. Of course, he had killed anyone he needed to while he was in the military, but it was never like this. "Did I hear you right?"

The Japanese rested his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath in the process. "Yes. Can you do that?" He turned his head and glanced at the man sitting behind him. He could see the red hair in the corner of his eye, but he couldn't find his face. Jin wondered why Hwoarang seemed to move away from his sight, but didn't bother to ask. It wasn't his business, after all.

Hwoarang was still in deep thought, although he did hear the other talking. He looked down at his hands and asked himself if he could take a life of someone he knew. Jin wasn't really someone he held dear, but he was clearly the only one he had whose name weighted more than a stranger's. He liked him, actually. He liked him as a person, as a fellow competitor and as a rival, despite his annoyance with him.

Jin started to feel the strange atmosphere, which the sudden silence exuded. The Japanese turned back and looked down. Was he asking too much of the other man? But Hwoarang was the only one he could really ask. Hwoarang was the one who fought him to a draw and defeated him at the tournament. "You're the only one I can count on… Hwoarang."

The Blood Talon snapped out of his reverie upon hearing Jin speak his name for the first time. He continued to change the bandages as he finally gave his reply. "Sure… I can do that." Hwoarang stood up as he scratched the back of his head.

"Thank you." Jin watched him leave, but the Korean kept his back on him. The Japanese sensed that something was off; maybe he was asking too much. But there wasn't any other choice—it could only be the Korean, nobody else. He started to feel strange, pretty bad, actually. He let out a sigh, then pulled off the covers from his legs and attempted to stand up.

"Hey, don't move." Hwoarang turned at the door and crossed his arms."I told you that already, didn't I?" He returned right after disposing the bloodstained bandages which Jin hadn't expected. All business has been settled between the two of them, so why would Hwoarang come back unless it was for food or his wounds? Although they were familiar enough with each other, they obviously didn't share anything between themselves. A relationship with heartwarming chitchat was just not possible to them.

"I have to train."

"Well, if you train **now**, you die **now**. It's not that I give a shit about you, Kazama." He took a step and pointed at the Japanese, who was tentatively listening to his voice. "But if you get yourself strained, you WILL die. Your wounds could have been fatal. Have just a pinch of fucking faith in me. Sure, I patched up your damn cuts, but I can't raise you from the fucking dead! You lost a shitload of blood and need to recover. It's not like you can just take mine and dance around in circles just minutes later!"

"I can't die just yet." Jin looked down. How could he even die? A gun had failed to kill him before, and what could be worse than getting shot? He would survive a fall, since his wings would sprout out from his back and carry him. Stress or wounds wouldn't kill him. Jin didn't even know himself how to end his life. Maybe a shot through the heart could work?

"Yeah, 'cause I'll be the one to send you to hell! So just ease up for now, okay?!"

"You don't know anything," Jin insisted and then attempted to stand once more. His legs were weak, and he knew that, but he couldn't spend this day lying down. He only had one month and that was it. No extensions.

"_Haish…_" The Blood Talon shook his head. "Fine," he sighed and walked to his persistent rival. He held out his hand and, when Jin took it, pulled him up carefully. Hwoarang put his other hand on Jin's back to support him, given how Jin's legs were shaking visibly.

Jin managed to stand, but only with support. He fell right down on the ground when Hwoarang stepped away. Luckily, his aid wasn't so far away, and Jin was saved just in on time before sinking on the floor. "Whoops!" the Korean pulled Jin's arm around his neck, while his other hand went softly on the waist. "You all right, Kazama?"

Jin felt the Korean's breath on his skin and realized they were awfully close to each other. No one had ever been this close to him before because he had never really permitted it. He didn't want anyone to grieve his destined death, either, which was why he asked this red-headed Korean for help. This man would not grieve. This man would take his life gladly. "Yes… thank you."

"So, you still want to train? We can train like this if you want," Hwoarang said with a smirk.

Jin noticed his distressed look, though, and paused to think. It was the first time he saw that expression. Whenever they had met in the past, Hwoarang's face had been painted with aggravation or bitter determination to beat him. "No," he sighed. Jin rested his eyes and turned his head away. "I think I'll just rest for now."

"Good thing you still have your brain working," the redhead snickered and helped Jin back on the bed**.**

The Japanese released his tight hold of the Korean's shoulder and shifted to a more comfortable position. He moved himself to the middle of the bed and crossed his legs, resting his arms on them. "Thank you." he looked straight in the redhead's eyes and noticed a change in them once again. That strange look in disappeared in such a short time, though. Jin's lips suddenly curved into a smile when he realized that they did have some things in common, after all.

"What the hell are you smiling for?"

Jin shook his head, and along with it, hid his rare smile.

Hwoarang raised a brow and noticed another mood swing of the twenty-one-year-old Japanese. He pulled the wooden chair and turned it around. He sat down and rested his arms and chin over the back of the chair. "So, what's up?"

Jin turned away and closed his eyes, signaling an end to their conversation. He never was the talkative type, but he would speak when spoken to, or speak if it was about something important. He wasn't the type to exchange pleasantries, either, but since he was under somebody else's roof, it would have been rude to withdraw completely, even it it was sometimes tiresome to chat about insignificant things.

"All right, I get it…," the redhead groaned. "Back to your discreet mode, huh?"

The fighter on the discreet mode, as Hwoarang had put it, turned to face Hwoarang and saw him resting his eyes. Jin had barely left the bed, but from what he could see, the room they were staying in was small. He started to wonder where the other man could have slept.

"Hey."

The redhead turned to him. "Hm?"

Jin bit back the question, he couldn't figure out if the words were just right. It might come out the wrong way if the words were chosen poorly. He thought it over and then asked tentatively: "Where were you last night?"

"What?" Hwoarang raised his brow.

"I meant, where did you sleep last night?" the Japanese scratched his cheek with a finger, thinking that he must've said it wrong.He wasn't very good with words since he didn't speak English that much. Of course, he had learned it at school, learned to write it, and he could even read the language without fumbling. Yet, having a conversation was a lot different.

"Right here."

"Excuse me?" Had he heard that right? Hwoarang had slept in the same room, or had he misunderstood? Where could he have possibly lain down and slept, if not on the only bed there, together with him?

"I fell asleep sitting on this chair." The Korean tapped his fingers against the wooden chair. "So, would you care sharing a thing or two with me now? I don't have anything to do here, and I can't go out because I can't leave you here alone."

Jin shifted so that his leg was bent comfortably. He didn't say anything, but he kept his eyes at the Korean. His lips were sealed tight; he wasn't thinking about sharing anything.

Hwoarang waited a while, but then relinquished. "You suck." He sighed and let his eyes roam around the Japanese's body as he tried to think of anything else to talk about… but he found nothing. "Loosen up, will you? At least share something about your mother."

"My mother is Jun Kazama."

"Wow," the Blood Talon gasped. "I wasn't expecting that you'd really say something about your mother, but nice name… So, go on." He waved his hand.

"She's dead."

Hwoarang bit his lower lip; the Japanese just kept on surprising him. "I'm… sorry. I had no idea." He scratched the back of his head as he lowered it between his shoulders. Jin glanced his way and saw another different expression on the Blood Talon. "But you know you should be thankful that you got the chance to see her." He looked away, seemingly lost in deep thought.

"I am."

"That's… That's good." The Korean's voice sounded soft and sad. "You really should be."

"How about you?"

"Me?" he pointed at his face. "Well, I just sprouted out of nowhere, and then my master picked me up. I robbed him of money that time, and it was actually my first. I guess he noticed how scared I was, so after that, he taught me Tae Kwon Do. I used it to gain a scholarship, but I didn't finish my studies. I wasn't able to graduate because my master suddenly disappeared. I went back to the streets, hoping to get some information, but I ended up being a street thug leader."

"That's how we met."

"Yeah," Hwoarand cupped his face and gave a smile. "That's right."

Jin gave back a smile. "Brings back memories…"

Hwoarang laughed. "Sure does! But anyway, what were you doing in Korea back then?"

"My…," the Japanese stopped, confused whether to use an address or a proper name. "Heihachi….

The other raised a brow. "_Your_ Heihachi? Do you have something to do with that baldy old man?"

"He's… my grandfather."

"Really? Hm…." Hwoarang looked up at the ceiling and let his imagination wander. "Man, I can't imagine you losing your hair on the top first. You think you'd grow old like that or you'd keep most of your pretty hair?"

"What's the point of thinking? I'm already gonna die in a month."

"Oh, about that…." Hwoarang cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head.

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"O-of course not!" he replied with his stern face. "Actually, I am looking forward to kicking your damn ass!!"

"That's… good, then."

"You just reminded me of how we fought to a draw. I'm so pissed off! Can I kill you now, instead?!" Hwoarang stood up, pushing the chair down to the floor in the process. "Man! I'm leaving!" He stormed out and left the chair lying on the floor. The Korean kept his face well hidden, but his teeth were clashed and his eyes burned in annoyance. Something had been bothering him all morning.

Jin watched him leave once more. Not like he could have followed the Korean, anyway. He faced the other way and saw a calendar hanging on the wall. Autumn had been there all this time, but he hadn't even noticed how the air had grown colder. He shook his head and realized how absorbed he was in getting vengeance. There might be other things that he had missed, and he wondered about it.

Hwoarang, on the other hand, slammed the door and hurried to the side table in the other room to get his daily dose of nicotine. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack and lit it. The Blood Talon inhaled the smoke deeply. He stared into nothingness, and then threw himself down to the sofa to enjoy the smoke.

"Damn it," he cursed and closed his eyes. He propped one leg on the couch and the other on the center table. He massaged his temples with a thumb and a middle finger. "Am I having second thoughts?"

**END OF CHAPTER ****TWO.**

**A/N:** Notice how I always portray Hwoarang scratching the back of his head? Well, I used it as one of his mannerisms, similar to how Jin turns his head away in a conversation.

**Fenjien Ren:** Hey, have you guys heard of the upcoming movie of Tekken? It should be released some day in 2009. Jin's going to be there, so are Kazuya, Xiaoyu, Nina, Bryan and some others. Unfortunately, Hwoarang's not going to be there, or even Baek. But setting that issue aside, I still don't know if it's going to be a good movie or what because it's not going to be an animation like the ending clips on the game or even the first Tekken movie.


	3. Ching gu: Tomodachi : Friends

"**Black Feathers on the Bloody Talon**" by fENjiEn rEn  
_Jin & Hwoarang -centric Fan Fiction._

**DISCLAIMERS:** Namco owns Tekken and all of its characters.  
**  
FULL SUMMARY:** At the end of Hwoarang's story in Tekken 5, Devil Jin goes to him for a fight. The Korean wins just because his rival was in his worst state ever, hence his win on this rematch was disregarded. Hwoarang nurses Jin to health to have another, fair match, but by the time Jin wakes up, he asks Hwoarang to kill him after a certain period of time, and Hwoarang agrees. However, as the time flies and the moment comes, Hwoarang becomes hesitant… but why? Jin is just a rival, isn't he? Someone he'd want gone forever, so why the sudden falter? And will Hwoarang win against a powerful demon, even if he wants to?

**WARNING:** The fic contains some cursing, character death, and very light shounen-ai.

**AUTHOR, Fenjien Ren:** For the third time in my life, I am totally not dreaming! Let me have my smokes, then all applaud for **Salysha**, the author of "Bedded Rivals" and "Unforgivable Crime", for beta-reading the third chapter! I swear it's impossible for me to get tired on doing this! Yahoo!!

**GENIUS Salysha:** Thank you, I say and bow humbly. All salute Fen, too, the author of _The Worst Who Saved Me_ and _The Punishment_, which better get updated soon!

**Fenjien: **NooOOo!! Don't listen to her! SHE LIES! xDD (runs to the corner and starts sulking upon the thought of _The Punishment._)

**CHAPTER THREE.  
**"**Ching gu… Tomodachi… Friends."**

Three days passed. Jin had major improvements on his health, and Hwoarang was happy about it, although he did find it strange. The Japanese managed to stand on his own and take a few steps by the second day, and by the third, his wounds had closed and left their marks. Tonight was the fourth night. The Blood Talon expected that Jin would have more than half his usual strength, and if that really was the case, Jin would be able to leave after a couple more days fully recovered.

The redhead had been wondering what was behind his rival's big recovery. It bothered him, but he dared not show it. Jin had had almost fatal wounds and had lost a great amount of blood, and yet, in such a short time, he already had the strength to move. It was strange; it wasn't normal. Hwoarang's curiosity was starting to pull something from the depths of his mind. He felt like he was starting to feel afraid, but, for the Blood Talon, that thought was absolutely unacceptable.

The Korean sat on the chair next to the bed. He rubbed his eyes and realized he had fallen asleep the fourth time since morning. He cast a glance at the Japanese meditating quietly and let out a deep sigh upon the sight. He was bored, and what made it worse was that he couldn't make any sound to break the silence. He grunted and turned to the hardbound black book in his hand. _It's better than dozing off,_ he thought, and opened the book sloppily.

Jin opened an eye and looked at the frowning Korean behind the book he gave. His lips curled to a smile upon the interesting sight. Hwoarang groaned as he lazily transferred the book to one hand and cupped his face with the free one. Jin could feel a laugh fighting its way out of his lips, but he fought it and went back to his morning meditation.

After some time, Hwoarang grunted and left the room quietly. Jin lifted a hand and covered his mouth, suppressing his laugh. The Japanese heard the other knocking things down and cursing outside. Most of the words were foreign to Jin's ears, but the heavy accent translated them for him.

The red-headed Korean had complained of how bored he was because he couldn't leave the house to his paralyzed rival. Jin had promised he would keep him company every morning after his meditation until they could finally part ways. The redhead had agreed to it and done his best not to disturb him, but the Korean was now losing his patience.

Jin laughed, but kept it low, so the other wouldn't hear, or else the Korean would think he was making fun of him. He turned his back at the door and clutched his stomach, which was beginning to hurt in quite a good way. He then cleared his throat with a soft cough and returned his gaze to the closed door. "I'm done," he said, not too loud, but loud enough to be heard through the thin wall.

The bashing sounds ceased. The Japanese kept his eyes on the wall as if he could see through it, and began to doubt that the Korean was all right. He might be buried under all those things he'd dropped and pass out. Jin crept to the edge of the bed and laid his bare feet down on the cold floor. He put strength and energy down to his limbs and tried to straighten up when…

"DAMN IT!" Hwoarang cursed, as the door swung open violently. The Japanese looked up and was relieved to see that the redhead was fine. The rough curse that echoed in his ears cracked a smile out of his lips, but he decided to hide it still. Jin looked away.

The Blood Talon carried the chair to an inch away from the bed and Jin. "So, what's up?" He rested his chin on the back of the chair and gave all his attention to the one who had promised to keep him from getting bored. His face was far from being annoyed; it actually looked rather empty and sad. Jin noticed this and wanted to ask why, but didn't. Enquiring over trivial things usually ended up breaking the barriers between friends and strangers. He didn't want that to happen.

"What do you want to talk about?" Even casual conversation should be avoided, but if he did that, that would surely be rude. Hwoarang had not left him since day one, and entertaining him with small talkwas the least he could do to show his gratitude.

"I dunno," the Korean shrugged, and then thought for a while. "Wanna play a game?" he stood up and smoothly turned the chair around so he could finally relax his back to it. He crossed his legs and poised himself confidently.

"What game?"

"How about Q & A?" Hwoarang rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his head.

"Question and answer? That's a game?" The Japanese raised a brow and looked at the other, puzzled.

Hwoarang let out a short laugh. "It is to me, unless you have any other ideas." He kept a smile on his face and waited for the other to make up his mind.

"Fine."

Hwoarang snickered and extended his balled fist. Jin looked at it with the same confused expression on his face. "What's that?" he asked.

"We're going to see who's going to ask first."

"With fists?"

"Yeah."

Jin stared at him blankly, and then the Korean slowly received the unspoken message. Hwoarang let out a sigh in disbelief and leaned closer. He parted his legs and rested his elbows on them. Their heads were just inches away, but neither of them cared. "Haven't you played Rock, Paper, Scissors before?" he asked uneasily.

"Aren't scissors dangerous to play with?" It was an innocent and serious remark, and the readhead found it quite amusing. He didn't want to send any negative messages, though; he suppressed his insistent laugh and shook his head, instead, with just a smile.

"Okay, okay. I get it." His head fell down for a moment, and his outstandingly red hair hid his face. ,Hwoarang was trying so hard not to laugh that he kept on avoiding eye contact, or else he would have fallen on the floor laughing. "You were the nerdy kid who got picked on by older students all the time so you were shunned by the kids with the same age of the society."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't mind that. So, anyway, a closed fist symbolizes the rock, then the scissors." He stuck his index and middle finger in the shape of a V. "Obviously scissors can't cut rocks, so when either of us uses a rock and the other uses scissors, the one who used a rock is the bigger moron." He showed his palm. "This is the paper, and yes, it's my hand, but it's a paper whenever we play this game. Paper beats rock, rock beats scissors, and scissors beat paper. Any questions?"

Jin looked at his own hand for a while, trying to memorize everything that he had been told. He started doing the signs himself. He clenched his fist for the rock, made a V with his fingers for the scissors and opened his hand wide for the paper. After a while, he turned back to the Korean and nodded.

"All right!" Hwoarang said enthusiastically. "So, on the count of three, we play."

The Japanese nodded again.

"Okay. One… Two… and… Three!"

Both men threw their hands with eagerness to win. It was just a game, but pride still made each want to come out on top. wanted the top. Though, unfortunately, they ended up using the same hand sign. Hwoarang sat back in annoyance and started his string of complaints. "Damn! Do we still have to have a draw even in this fucking game?!"

Jin remained neutral. When did he ever complain? He looked at the redhead and asked, "Again?"

"Of course!!" The Korean's fighting spirit hadn't run dry. That didn't even seem possible. "One, two… and three!" They started another round, only to pick the same sign once more.

"Again?"

"One, two… three!"

"…"

"One, two… three!"

"…"

"One, two… three!"

"…"

"One, two and three!"

"…Again?"

"One, two… three!"

"…"

"One, two and three!"

"…Again…?"

"Hell, yeah! One more freaking time; so, one, two and… Oh, fuck this! I'm asking first!" Hwoarang stomped his feet and buried his tired eyes in his palm. He sighed and leaned towards the Japanese. "All right, let me think."

The Japanese waited patiently for the other to ask his question, and even after what seemed like ten minutes, neither of them broke the deafening silence. Hwoarang finally moved into his space and started scratching the back of his head. "That first game pissed me off. I can't think of anything to ask."

Jin parted his lips, speaking again. "I have something to ask you."

"Really?" Hwoarang leaned back and crossed his legs.

"I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not. I'm the one who thought of this game, in case you have forgotten," Hwoarang said with a smirk. He really wouldn't mind; besides, he knew Jin wasn't the type of person who pried into personal stuff. Actually, he was the prier, but as long his privacy was respected, he would do the same.

Jin lifted his left hand and gave his own right shoulder a soft squeeze as he stared at the floor. He had had this mannerism ever since he stayed with Hwoarang. He didn't know where it had come from or why; he just felt like he had to do it, and then he'd ease up, even just a little. "You've been very kind to me… I just want to know why. I have enough strength, and I could leave if you told me to, but you won't even allow me to get off the bed."

The Japanese feared what he'd get for an answer. If the Korean treated him as a friend, it would be a problem because as friends, Hwoarang would back down and not kill him. The very reason why he had gone to this man was that he had thought they could never see each other as friends. He himself had been lost, had accepted him into his life and now considered him someone close and important.

The redhead looked down, looking for the right words to say. "Nigimi shipeda… Mahn nabwepge dweo seo bahn gahp soumnida," he said with a smile as a language alien to Jin slipped out of his lips.

"Excuse me?"

"I said you're an asshole," the Korean said with an annoyed face. "Are you starting to think that I'm worried about you? You've got to be losing your mind, man!! We made a deal, remember? And that's all I care about. Got it, Kazama!?"

"It's Jin," he said, looking straight at the Korean's surprised face. "Call me Jin."

Even if he had surrendered to his fate, at least it would be impossible for the Korean to do the same. Jin smiled, knowing that he had made the right choice by picking this man for the deal. The Korean would never see him as anything but an enemy, despite everything they had done in the past few days.

"What about 'asshole'? Can I call you that, instead?" Hwoarang raised a brow, trying to take the smile on Jin's face away. He was starting to feel awkward. Sure, it was unusual, but still so different. It didn't feel wrong, but there was something about it that he couldn't take. Something he couldn't understand.

"If I can call you 'kitsune', then I don't think I would mind." The smile lingered on his face. He had made a fragile bond, something which he was sworn not to do. But now, by asking this man to call him by his first name, he gave his trust to another person. To him, was a sin. It was a weakness. It was a burden, but the burden felt good.

"You bastard! You think I don't know what that means?!" The Korean stood up, knocking the chair down to the floor again. "Haish!" he scratched the back of his head and looked away. He bit his lip, as his long, red hair spread across his cheeks. What he had told his rival echoed in his mind. It was starting to annoy him. Maybe it was guilt? He held on to that thought; after all, he had lied about what the phrase spoken in his native language meant. It wasn't something that should come out of his lips, even just between the two of them. He felt so shy.

"Don't you think it fits you well, 'fox'?" Jin rested his eyes and smiled softly. "Especially the hair."

"Well, if we're talking about fucking hair… Yours looks like a damn stinking chicken butt!"

The Japanese turned away but kept the smile on his face and the hand his shoulder. "Whatever you say." He looked out of the window and his smile slowly disappeared. Hwoarang watched his rival for a while and then turned his back.

"What do you want for lunch?" he asked.

Jin turned back to him and replied, "How about some of your food? Korean cuisine?"

The Blood Talon raised a brow. "Are you sure about that?" His hands went on his hips.Hwoarang looked down at the Japanese with doubt, but the dark-haired man just nodded with a smile. He sighed and gave in to his rival's request. "All right. I'll try to make something you'd like."

The redhead wandered off. Jin watched him walk away as the smile on his face faded away. He turned to the other side and looked out of the window and saw the trees that were starting to shed their dry leaves.

"Hey." Jin looked to the door and realized that the Korean was already back. "I don't have enough ingredients. I won't be able to make something good out of what we have. Maybe sometime when you can move, we could eat out."

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Hwoarang headed to his rival and took over one side of the bed. He lied down and looked at the ceiling. He could see Jin from the corner of his eye, watching him. "You can move that much already?" heasked, not facing his rival.

The Japanese nodded.

The redhead's lips curled to a smile as is eyelids closed. "That's good… Jin. Then tomorrow it is."

**END of CHAPTER THREE.**

* * *

**A/N:** Omeghad, I saw and used another mannerism. When I played Tekken Tag Tournament using Jin along with the very fu—I mean, lovable Korean on their default clothes, their pre-fight animation would be Hwoarang talking and Jin listening and nodding his head or something while holding his right shoulder with his left hand. And when they lose, Hwoarang's going to shrug like saying "it's not my fault" or something, while Jin is still in the same position. That's all. I just wanted to share something. xDD

**To the readers of "The Punishment":** I'm verysorry, but it will take a long time before I get to update that. My flash drive caught a virus, I scanned the file on the computer and now, it won't open. T.T The computer stopped recognizing the folders and couldn't open it. So, I'll be doing the second chapter all over again. It might take me a month because school is about to start and I'll be taking an exam, so I have to review for me to actually pass. Please be patient and stay with me.


	4. Farewell

"**Black Feathers on the Bloody Talon**" by fENjiEn rEn  
_Jin & Hwoarang -centric Fan Fiction._

**DISCLAIMERS:** Namco owns Tekken and all of its characters.

**WARNINGS:** Just… Hwoarang. Cursing. xD

**AUTHOR, Fenjien Ren:** Again… For the fourth time in my life! We shall thank and kneel down before **SALYSHA**, who beta-read this chapter!!

**BETA-READER, Salysha**: Strictly speafking, I think you knelt down in the Author's Note of "The Punishment" already... winks) As always, you are way too nice.

**Fenjien Ren:** I'm not 'way too nice,' you deserve it… really!

**IMPORTANT NOTE:** READ THIS! DAMN! READ ME!! There… Good. The italicized words are the translation of what Hwoarang said in Korean on the past chapter! Hoped you'd like the idea… xDD

**Fenjien:** I did say this has a very light shounen-ai, right? Please, forgive me, Snook666, for more of _those_ moments! Also, this was supposed to be a part of the previous chapter, but I forgot to add it. So I rewrote this part and mixed it with the fifth chapter, which was strangely short. Anyway, if you just hate yaoi and there's no way you'd accept it, it's either you navigate away from this page or just try to think of it as deep friendship. Do not worry, though; this will be the last chapter with shounen-ai hints!

**CHAPTER FOUR.  
**"**Farewell."**

Hwoarang threw himself down on the couch and closed his eyes. It had been a very long day, it had tired him out. He anticipated that the next day would just be the same, if not worse. He lifted his arm and let it rest over his tired eyes. He let out a sigh, and then drowsiness took his thoughts away. He yawned and turned to lie on his side. He had been sleeping like this for four days and he was getting used to it. His body no longer ached for some space, his mind no longer complained for cooler air, and this was all because he had insisted on giving his rival all the comfort he needed to recover.

He whispered good night to no one in particular. Lethargy slowly consumed his mind until he fell asleep. He slept with deep breathing and gradual soft growls from his throat. Jin watched from a few feet away, standing in the door frame, with his arms crossed across his chest. A smile was found on his lips, hidden in the darkness of the night. He approached Hwoarang carefully and slid his arms under the Korean's shoulders and knees.

Hwoarang groaned upon the sudden fdisturbance, but it didn't pull him out of his sleep, though still Jin paused for a while to be sure of it. After a while without any movement, the dark-haired Japanese lifted the other carefully from the couch. He looked at the redhead's sleeping face, as it moved against him on its quest for warmth. Jin kept the smile, knowing that nobody was around to see it.

The Korean was certainly a heavy sleeper, much to the Japanese's surprise. He headed back to the room slowly and laid the redhead to the comfy bed. "Oyasuminasai." He touched his rival's forehead as he wished him a good night's sleep. Jin withdrew and pulled the covers up to Hwoarang's shoulder and walked away slowly. He headed out and closed the door firmly.

The redhead groaned, turning around under the white sheets. He blinked his eyes and then rubbed the doziness off. He looked around and noticed he was sleeping on his bed. He sat up and looked around, searching for that familiar form of a man, but he couldn't find it. Maybe he had already left. Hwoarang shook his head and tried to remember which day it was. It was the 15th of November--five days since they had met and twenty-six more days until their fight to the end.

That wasn't a very good morning thought for Hwoarang. If he could just admit that he wouldn't be able to do it and tell Jin, then maybe he wouldn't have the kind of dreams like he had just had, but the problem was, he couldn't.  
The Japanese wouldn't accept retreat. There had been so many times when he tried to tell him, but before he had even been able to start, he had already been shot down**.**

The Blood Talon stretched his legs and stood up. He looked out of the window at the dull branches, naked of their leaves. The redhead scratched the back of his head and looked down at his feet, giving out a deep breath.

"Jin?" Hwoarang turned to the door and waited patiently for a response. He slid his hands into his pockets and headed out of the room.

It had only been one day since the other had insisted to be called by his first name, and the Korean felt a bit uncomfortable with it, but he hid it quite well. He hadn't called anyone by their name, and knowing the Japanese traditions, referring to someone by their first name meant a lot. It could either mean that you were a relative or that you were someone close or important to that person. It wasn't because Jin was not important to him; he always had been, and Hwoarang had even said that to his rival's face, although he had said it in a way that the other would surely not understand.

"_You're my friend, and I'm very glad I met you_." It echoed in his head. The words he had hidden from Jin repeated in his mind. He had never been the type of person to speak of such things. He was embarrassed. He never thought there would come a time that he'd be in such a situation: torn between his heart and mind. He did not love the man more than he should, but considered him more worthy than anyone ever should. Hwoarang found his first friend worthy of his trust, but the man did not want it. That was an obvious fact.

"Kazama?" He stepped out to the living room and looked around. He saw the couch empty and thought the man had really gone.He leaned against the shut door, and then heard the low sounds echoing from the kitchen. His lips slowly curved to a smile, which faded away, as he neared the end of his search.

A firm figure stood by the kitchen, reaching up to the open cabinets on the high ceiling. The Korean watched from afar before realizing just what the man was busy with. Jin had bought groceries and was now putting them in place. He also had some breakfast made on the tiny round table. Hwoarang approached silently and carefully.

"Good morning," Jin greeted as he put that one last can to the now filled cabinets. He took the plastic bags lying around the tiled counter one by one and folded them neatly, hiding them in one cabinet underneath the sink to serve as garbage bags someday. Jin washed his hands and then joined the Korean at the table.

"You're out of bed." Hwoarang eyed his rival as he took a spoonful into his mouth.

The Japanese nodded and rested an arm over the table. He kept silent, but the Korean sensed a change in his rival's attitude. Jin didn't come near him or even talk more than usual, but he had started to give his rare smile sometimes. Hwoarang thought that maybe the man had finally eased up around him, and it was a good thing to him. Jin, however, took the closeness otherwise. He was beginning to fear the bond he had made with the man who had promised to seal his fate. He had begun to wonder, after all the things that had happened: would the Korean still be able to do what he had sworn to do?

"You cook well." Hwoarang put his palms together and thanked for the meal. Jin gave a simple sound of acknowledgement. The Korean pouted and arched a brow; he felt like talking to a brick wall. "Anyway, why are you up so early today?"

"Have you forgotten?" the Japanese finally replied, looking at his rival with a little emotion flickering in his eyes.

"Should I… remember… something?" Those words seemed like a signal for an awkward atmosphere to descend. The Korean started to feel that, with those words, he had pushed exactly the wrong buttons. He arched a brow and waited for the other to answer, but no response came.

The Japanese turned his head and then stood up. "No. There is nothing," he replied as he took the empty bowl and carried it to the newly cleaned sink.

"_Haish._" Hwoarang remembered nothing, but judging from his rival's reaction, there had to be something that he had forgotten about that day. He scratched the back of his head and turned to the window, which revealed the leafless trees on the sidewalks. He tried to remember everything he had said the day before, but nothing would come to his mind.

Jin wiped his hands after washing some dishes. "What would you like for lunch?" He turned to the Korean, mumbling in his chair, and patiently waited for an answer. He no longer hoped that the redhead would remember. Have no expectations, receive no disappointments--a saying of Heihachi Mishima's that he himself believed. It was an obvious fact, but it was something hard to avoid, still.

The redhead looked like he was lost in deep thought. "Winter is almost here."

The Japanese blinked, spaced out for a couple of seconds, surprised at the reply that he got. Hwoarang was really not paying any attention to him, and he felt so stupid for not noticing it sooner. He lowered his head, hiding a smile. "Do you celebrate Christmas?" he said, throwing the towel back to the counter.

**x o x LATER THAT NIGHT x o x**

It was all just a game, and then it was complicated but it was still only a game; a game to experience celebrating Christmas with somebody, even if it was not yet the 25th of December. They realized it themselves, although if asked, neither would admitted that the only people they had left were each other. Not as lovers or anything unusual, nor as friends, but at least as great rivals.

The red-headed Korean was sitting on his couch, with his limbs spread wide and a bottle swaying in his unsteady grasp. He was staring up at the blank ceiling, completely intoxicated with the dozen bottles of beer he had consumed. "Jiiiiiinnn…," he groaned, having his sight spin around. He started to feel his head ache so terribly, and he wanted so bad to take a bath, but he couldn't even stand. He couldn't even remember where the bathroom was.

"Nngghh...?" the Japanese replied with a low groan. Jin was just as drunk and weak as his rival was. He was sitting on the singles couch, but he was in a more proper posture and position. His head was bowed low, but he wasn't sprawled all over the place like Hwoarang. His shaky hands were cradling a half empty bottle**.**

"You're… leaving, aren't you?" Hwoarang rested his eyes, annoyed at his twirling sight. "…Tonight?" he swallowed hard, readying himself for the obvious reply**.**

Jin fluttered his eyes, not bothering to think of a proper answer. He bent over and rested his elbows on his knees. He covered his face with a hand and hid the redness of his cheeks, caused by the great volumes of alcohol he had consumed. He was out of words, but lots were storming in his mind. He just couldn't decide which to pick, couldn't figure out the perfect words to say. Jin lifted the bottle back to his lips and took a sip, and then his body started to feel the burning again.

"I'm not…." The Korean's words were coming out like mumbles, but Jin was close enough to understand. Hwoarang turned to the almost empty bottle in his hand and carried it to his mouth slowly. "I'm not going to let you go," he said after carefully putting the bottle down to the floor. The redhead sat back and reached out to another bottle of beer before going back to his previous sprawled position.

"…Doesn't matter."

"It… matters to me," the Blood Talon replied groggily. "How… how can you… take death so easily?"

"I don't," Jin replied, leaning back to the soft couch. "But because I have chosen you… as my death… I stopped… fearing it."

"Don't… talk like that." He gritted his teeth as tight as he could squeeze his closed eyes. His grip on the bottle tightened as well; he swore he could break it into tiny pieces, but he wasn't strong enough at the moment. "Stop spitting shit at me."

"You have no idea… what I am, what grows from my skin, what flows in my blood… and what shares my life."

"I don't think I need to know… _Kazama, Jin._"

"Of course." Jin rested his eyes. "Ignorance is bliss."

**x o x NEXT MORNING x o x**

Hwoarang turned his head, groaning. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around. His head was spinning, and the hangover kicked in instantly. He bent over and threw up between his thighs, holding tight to his twisting stomach. He vomited for a few seconds and then he fell back to the chair, brushing his hair with his hand. He looked around; Kazama was nowhere in sight.

"Kazama?" he called, wondering if Jin has already left or not. He struggled, forcing strength in his legs to stand, but he failed. He needed more time to recover from the alcohol he had taken the night before.

"You are disgusting." The dark haired dark haired Japanese walked in with his arms crossed.

"I thought… I thought you already left."

Jin didn't answer. He went back to the kitchen and came back with a pail and a rug. Hwoarang stayed on his chair and watched the man move forward and kneel down to the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning," he replied simply as he cleaned the mess.

"You're not my housemaid, are you?" Hwoarang stayed in his chair and watched the man move forward and kneel down to the floor. "You don't have to clean that."

"It's nauseating." Jin stood up and went back to the kitchen. Hwoarang watched him closely, feeling very awkward upon knowing that it would be their last morning together. Jin was going to leave that day. The Korean had ascertained that the night before, but now, he didn't know what to do or what to say.

Jin returned with a black pistol in his hands. He threw it to the Korean's lap and said, "The life of a demon lies in the things that move and beat, for we are also part human. We breathe and bleed."

Hwoarang was dazed. He lost all the words that had taken him a lifetime to learn. He wished that alcohol and hangover were causing the things he heard, but they were real. He wanted to escape from that fact, but he couldn't. Running away was nothing but in vain, and there was no use in telling himself otherwise. The time had come, and there was no more chance to turn back.

"It's the only way to kill me."

The Blood Talon's jaw hardened, as his body grew cold and tense. He was hesitant; he always had been. Not once had he felt confident that he could pull the trigger on this man. Jin was his rival, yes, but this rival was the only thing he had. It was ironic that the person he hated the most was also the only one he didn't want to lose.

"Jin, I…." He looked down at the black gun lying on his lap. "I can't." He shook his head, closing his eyes, admitting serious defeat. He couldn't do it, and it was the only thing clear to him at the moment. He couldn't kill Jin. He didn't even want to fight him again, well, maybe just for show or exercise, but things weren't that serious anymore. The Korean was no longer bothered by the draw… he no longer cared. Nothing mattered except the loneliness he'd face after pulling one small trigger.

"You have to." Three little words were said before the redhead fell down to the floor beside the couch, following a serious blow to his chest. "Or I will kill you right here and now, since you are of no use to me, after all." Jin glared down at the squirming Korean on the floor.

Hwoarang clasped tight to his abused chest. He panted and coughed, as the pain slowly faded. "Fuck." He couldn't figure out if the pain was doubled because of the liquor, or if it was even cut to half. The pain was different; something he hadn't felt for so long, but it felt good… so good.

"I have no interest in… human vermin."

"You know," he lifted his gaze to the Japanese while still down on his knees, "you have just reminded me why I hated the Mishimas." He looked back down and slowly stood up, straightening his knees. "Thanks, because I almost forgot how much shame you've put me through!" The Korean charged, throwing a kick straight at that pair of eyes, looking at him coldly.

_Damn it!_ How could he? He hated the Mishimas, and he hated Jin Kazama. Right now, if he would just let this man go, the Mishima bloodline would end, and it would be on his own hands. It would be an achievement… but he couldn't take the chance. He couldn't. He felt scared, unready… unreal and unwilling.

Their lives were at stake. For every punch the Japanese would give, the other would give back twice with his kicks, and yet, the outcome of that fight was impossible to predict. Jin had taken many hits, but the one who felt already exhausted was the one who had barely been touched. A thought that Jin was losing on purpose crossed the Korean's head, but he didn't care. He wanted to win, he should win… because he had to live… he had to win.

"Don't cheat with a fucking gun, you bastard!"

Jin just stared, keeping the gun he picked up from the ground, aiming at the Korean's head. The redhead could swear he was serious; Hwoarang had no doubt that Jin could and would pull the trigger if he didn't do anything. His life would end there and then, in his own apartment, at the hands of his rival and his friend... Just because he had wanted to save him, to keep Jin with him and from dying, he would lose his life.

_No!_ Hwoarang didn't have that in his plans; he couldn't die yet. He still had things to do… so many things to do. "Damn you!" He took one cautious and heavy step and turned himself around, making one quick flip and kick to throw the gun away upon seeing a simple opening. The pistol was thrown away; it bounced from the wall and fell back to the ground. He dashed to it just as fast as Jin did, but luckily, he was nearer to where it fell and managed to get it before the other.

"You cheat," the Korean said as he pointed the black pistol on his rival's chest. "You said to shoot at the heart and the lungs, right?"

"Yes." Jin closed his eyes and bowed his head a little. "But if aiming is the only thing you can do, it's useless." Before the Blood Talon had managed to react, to spit back, Jin was covered with red electricity, and he morphed into a creature with wings.

The demon growled, spreading his black wings wide, ready to attack or defend. His dark eyes glowed red, and then they faded to silver, as if nothing was there.

"What the fuck!?" Hwoarang stepped back, shocked.

"Can you shoot?" Jin spoke with a voice of two men in sync as he took a step nearer to the shivering Korean. He growled and turned up to the ceiling, as two curved horns slowly grew out of his head. He stretched his limbs along with his wings, purposely frightening the redhead. _Pull the trigger._

Hwoarang froze, looking at the creature before him. He wanted to fight, wanted to shoot, but fear had eaten away all his strength. _Damn it! MOVE!_ he yelled at himself, but it was no use.

"Pathetic." Jin dashed and only then Hwoarang managed to move his finger, pulling the trigger.

**END OF CHAPTER FOUR.**

**Fenjien:** That's it? He's dead already? Noooooo… There's two more chapters. How could he be already dead?? XD

**Salysha: **I'm inclined to think that he can aim and shoot all he wants, but who knows if he hits. ;)

**Fenjien:** Yeah, I'm sure Jin isn't stupid enough to get shot, given that he turned into Devil Jin.

**TO ALL READERS:** Just one simple question: how would you want the fic end? Jin dead? Hwoarang dead? Or both dead? XD


	5. The Difference it Made

"**Black Feathers on the Bloody Talon**" by fENjiEn rEn  
_Jin & Hwoarang -centric Fan Fiction._

**DISCLAIMER: **Namco owns Tekken and all of its characters.  
**BETA-READER: **Salysha  
**WARNING:** Rated T for some curses.

**Fifth Chapter, the second to the last.  
"The Differences it Made."**

From the spots where those dark wings had grown, the skin cried blood. Jin's back was hurting, but the pain would surely go away. He stooped down to his knees and arms, trapping a frightened redhead under. His eyes glowed red, as he blinked and his strong wings flapped. His darkened lips curled into a smile, as he felt a gun pressed against his chest. The pistol was cold, but somehow it wounded him. It wounded his heart, his soul. This was because his death has finally been written permanently.

"Just like that," he whispered tenderly to the Korean trapped below him. He could see in Hwoarang's eyes the fear, the pain, and the regret of pulling the trigger. The man's face was pale and covered with sweat: a very unfriendly sight. "But I am still alive."

"K-kazama… Y-you bastard!" Hwoarang struggled and tossed his rival with a kick. He rolled to his knees and stood up while checking the pistol's load—there was none. He stared at the unloaded gun in his hand and lifted his gaze back to the dark creature with wings.

Jin closed his eyes, as the tattoos of the demon dissolved back to his skin. He cried low, as his wings and horns crawled back inside his body. No matter how many times he transformed, reverting was never easy and pleasant. "You did it," he said, walking to the Korean with his hand stretched out. "And you will do it again, but then, the fight will be real."

The Blood Talon stared at his rival's fist that slowly opened. It held bullets. "Do not… expect much from me."

"I don't." He carefully handed the ammunition to the Korean. "I know just what to expect from you—no more, no less." Jin lowered his head, a form of goodbye, and walked past Hwoarang, walking to the main door.

The redheaded Korean turned, watching his rival move and leave. As the door softly inched close, Hwoarang's eyes slowly closed, as his knees felt week. He fell down with a hand on his mouth, gravely feeling the acid lining up his throat. He coughed, struggling at first, and then letting go. He pushed his hands to the floor and threw up everything he had takenin the past 24 hours**.**

He coughed, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He furrowed his brows, feeling terrible. He looked up to the closed door, sighing and wondering where he would find himself next. He stood up weakly, his body still feeling uncomfortable from vomiting. He reached for the armrest of the couch for support and let his mind to adjust from the fight.

"Jin," he sighed, shaking his head.

After a few minutes, when his strength had built up and reached its normal state, he took his zip-up jacket and ran outside. He skipped down the stairs and hurried to the building's door, hoping to find Jin and talk his way out of this. He stopped at one corner, catching his breath. Hwoarang bent down and put his hands to his slightly bent knees for support.

_Where the hell are you?_ He gritted his teeth and rested his eyes. He shook his head after a few moments of rest and then looked around, carefully searching for a familiar form. On one crowded street, he spotted a hooded form, which stood out from most people. The Korean gasped and quickly headed that way. "Jin!"

He followed him, turned to every corner and street that his rival took… until he found himself in a dead end. "Damn!" He tightened his fist and punched the brick wall. He looked around after resting for a few moments and realized the certain objects were spread out throughout the alley. He picked one of them, playing its soft end between his fingers.

_A black feather. _He looked up to the sky, finally accepting his failure. Hwoarang sighed, throwing the black feather back to the ground and returning to his apartment. He stepped inside, looked around and realizing that he was left all alone again. He turned to the door and carefully locked it, knowing that no one else would be coming.

Hwoarang headed to the kitchen and raided the fridge. He saw some leftovers of his rival's cooking. He slowly took them and ate them cold directly on the cooking pot. Afterwards, he sat down on the couch and looked at his crossed feet. He furrowed his brow and began to wonder. _How does it feel like, Jin?_ He paused for a while and then turned up to the ceiling.

The Blood Talon wondered and tried to imagine what he would've done if he was in his rival's place. Would he wish to have his life taken, too? Or would he not bother to ask for anyone's help and end his misery by himself? Hwoarang couldn't tell. It must've been very hard; that was the one thing he could be sure of. _How many lonely nights was it for you, without your mother, before you could accept it?_

Hwoarang had felt his rival's love for his mother when they had talked about her. Through Jin, he had found out what having a family was like as well. But somehow, he knew he was luckier than Jin. The Korean didn't know what he was missing, but Jin did, and that was why he hurt so much. He shifted in his seat and straightened his limbs before lying down to the couch with an arm crossed underneath his head.

_Fuck you, Kazama. Everything I did for you was nothing but a waste of time. Now, I hate you more than ever._

**X O X CHAPTER BREAK X O X**

Jin stared down at the broken punching bag. Even though he had wrapped his fists well with bandages, they bled but didn't really hurt. He had been practicing for ten days straight with a little sleep and rest. He looked at his palm, wanting to find signs of improvement, but he found nothing but his wounds. He wasn't feeling confident, but he had to try. If he failed, he would train and just try again. Giving up wasn't an option; it never would be, for it never was.

"Just wait for me," he whispered, clenching his fist and ignoring the pain it gave. "I will find you." He stepped on the grains that went out of the shattered bag, keeping his mind straight on his goal. "I will kill you."

He had eight more days before Hwoarang's hunt for him would start. Eight days to accomplish what he had sworn on his life to do. He walked out of the dojo with his duffel bag hanging over his shoulder. He stepped out to the busy world of Japan. Everyone was going on with their lives as if there was no such pain in the world. He shook his head and then looked up to the sky, praying to his mother. He whispered: "Soon, mother. We'll be together again, soon."

**X O X CHAPTER BREAK X O X**

Eighteen days had passed since left. Hwoarang was keeping track of the days, and today was exactly one month from the day he had sworn to end the life of his rival. He stared at the calendar hung beside the window. He closed his eyes and breathed in. He had been practicing ever since Jin left, and now was the day to find if he had improved in any way.

_Not enough_, he thought. The Blood Talon turned and took his dobok from his bag and hurried out of the door. He jumped through the stairs and ran out the building door. Upon taking a few steps outside, he suddenly stopped. Seeing a familiar form on the corner of his eye, he suddenly turned. "Kazama?"

The dark form disappeared. Hwoarang sighed and thought he was hallucinating. He continued his walk and headed to the nearest dojo.

As the night fell, Hwoarang hurried back to his apartment with high hopes that Jin would be waiting for him there. He unlocked the door and entered.

"I have been waiting," a strange voiced echoed in the dark room.

The Korean looked around, seeking for its source. His eyes suddenly stopped at the open door of his bedroom. He walked to it without removing his eyes from the shrouded figure. "Jin?"

On his window, a man with large wings perched. Hwoarang turned to his left and turned on the lights, only to be frightened by his rival's condition.

"F-fuck! What happened to you!?"

The creature growled, flapping its wings and sending off drops of blood in every corner of the Korean's room. Jin was drenched in blood. More than half of his face was colored red, which made it hard to recognize.

Hwoarang threw his things to his bed and walked closer. "You look awful."

"They will heal," Jin replied, tilting his head to the side with a sly smile on his face as if to frighten his prey. "There is no need for aid." It was Jin's voice that was talking to him, but it wasn't only his life that was present before the Korean. The demon's influence was strong; the Blood Talon could tell, with the strange sensation his body was giving. "More importantly…." The creature hopped down from the window sill and entered, destroying the sturdy wall of the room in the process.

Hwoarang furrowed his brow and covered his eyes from the dust. "I have to pay for that, y'know."

"They will not have time to collect." Jin fluttered his wings again and sent drops of blood to the Korean's face as if provoking him to attack.

Hwoarang wiped the blood off, not taking his eyes off the smirking creature. "Jin--"

"He's not here," the creature replied abruptly, and his smile disappeared. "I'll be at the old cathedral in the west until the sun rises for the next day."

"I will come."

"Of course you will, or I will kill every man I cross until that man is you." He turned around, walking towards the shattered part of the room. "But I would not want to do that yet. Please, do not disappoint me."

Hwoarang spoke no more. He watched his rival stretch its wings, getting ready for its flight, and then jump out of his broken apartment. The Blood Talon ran towards the edge of his room and looked down to see the creature flying up to the cold sky.

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**Fen-fen:** Short chapter, isn't it? XD Arrrrgghh!! I'm still undecided how I'd end the story!! Mmmm... Anyway, the next chapter will be the last, so before I cry my heart out upon killing one or both of my favorite character, I just want to say thank you to all of my readers! Thank you, thank you, thank you!! And of course, a thousand more love to Salysha, my great and very kind beta-reader! That is all! Bye-bye!

By the way... I so love this chapter.


	6. He Begs Forgiveness

**Black Feathers on the Bloody Talon**" by fENjiEn rEn  
_Jin & Hwoarang -centric Fan Fiction._

**DISCLAIMERS:** Namco owns Tekken and all of its characters.  
**IMPORTANT NOTE:** Saly suggested a change of rating. Now, **Rated M**, people. This chapter is rated for gore and violence.**  
BETA READER:** Salysha  
**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** No HWOARANG was harmed in the making of this chapter.

**LAST CHAPTER (Alternate Ending no. 2)**  
"**He Begs Forgiveness."**

A demon with feathered wings perched on the edge of the marble stage where an angelic figure used to stand. His wide, blood-colored eyes were locked at the entrance. He cocked his head to one side, awaiting his prey. He fluttered his eyes, and, from afar, one might have thought that it were red lights not working properly. The glow of his eyes was inviting, although it was scary, as it seemed to possess a hypnotizing effect to draw anyone closer. It worked like the colorful feathers of a bird; it was attractive, although it didn't tempt any creature to come near to have his mate, but for the creature to become his food.

His strong, black wings flapped and destroyed the other marble structures within a large radius. His lips curled demonically into a smile, as the structures turned to sharp, blinding shards. He could sense his prey, approaching slowly, and the storm that was coming with him. He started to laugh with a twisted voice. His blood started to rush throughout his system in enthusiastic anticipation. He was even rocking himself like a psychotic man itching to destroy something, someone, again.

The demon snarled. It's patience was growing thin. He stood up and shook his head quickly like a dog after taking a bath. He was shivering, he was excited, he had waited so long for this, and, at last, it was about to happen. He started to hop with a frightening smile on his face. He felt so close to losing himself from the exquisite pressure. He was acting like a madman, but he didn't mind. The eagerness for the fight was just too much to bear, with his bloodlust rising, as the sound of boots against the land grew louder and louder.

_Faster!_ the inner voice yelled. It was the demon's voice, the human's having already died a month prior. There was no sign of the human ever having existed except for the body that was almost completely corrupted. The darker half had obviously taken over already, which was a sad fact. Jin's mother was weeping. Oh, if only he could see it, but he couldn't. His eyes had long slept, and only the eyes of the demon were open and watching the world go about.

The door of the old cathedral was swung open and a human voice called for another human. "Kazama!"

"He's not here," the demon whispered against the human skin coldly. Inconspicuously, he had moved to the man's back. The man flinched and jumped away. Devil Jin laughed at the lovely sight, but he would love it more if his prey were writhing and pleading for his life. "You ready now?" he asked and tilted his head**.**

Hwoarang grunted. "Looks like I still can't talk you out of this, can I?"

Devil Jin shook his head with a hand covering his face as he did. "How many times do I have to tell you? He is not here anymore." He lifted his gaze and smiled at the scowling Korean. He suppressed a laugh and kept his smile instead. He was provoking Hwoarang to attack to gain the advantage of his opponent, unable to think straight out of anger.

The redhead took his stance and picked up a rhythm.

Jin laughed, stretching his arms wide and letting his voice fill every space in the cathedral. His chest heaved roughly and his wings fluttered strongly. He shook his head and snarled. He took a step back and raised his fists, taking the style that the human within had long thought forgotten.

The battle commenced as the sky roughly cried upon the cathedral's roof, sending off sounds forceful enough to wake the dead. The fight was close up and intense. It was hard to tell who was had the upper hand. But that changed when Jin decided to take things up a notch or few, using his fiendish abilities to fly and send off unknown powers.

The sky roared, sending a mighty bolt of light to reach the ground. The fight was improving. Hwoarang was flung back to the cathedral's wooden door and forced it open as he tried to block the demon's lasers with his bare skin. He didn't have enough time to dodge and he wasn't stupid enough to try to lessen the pain; it was the only move he could make at that moment.

The red-headed Korean let out a cry as he hit a sturdy tree viciously. He slid down and landed on his knees and hands. He coughed as he felt a strange blockage in his throat and started to catch for air. He looked up and saw a shaking silhouette of his opponent growing. "Shit," he muttered. He coughed again and spat out blood. He fluttered his eyes until it regained its focus and stood up with his fists raised. He shook his head when he suddenly felt the world moving toofast. He closed his eyes tightly and then opened them up again. "C'mon, you motherfucker!"

Jin, his wings spread out wide, stood by the wrecked door. He inclined his head and showed another taunting smirk. "That was it?"

"I'm not dead yet, asshole," Hwoarang spat, shifting to his right stance.

He charged at his demonic opponent, still struggling to win… to fulfil his oath. Jin threw him back with his kicks, punches, and even his demonic abilities countless of times, but the Korean kept on striving to stand back up. Hwoarang thought, at first, that he was fighting for his survival, but he wasn't. The demon just kept on throwing him away. Somewhere, Jin was still protecting him, avoiding hitting his weak points.

Blood dripped down his bruised lips. He wasn't hurt from the intensity of the beating he was receiving, but from the volume of it. It felt like they had been fighting for a whole day now, but it was still dark. The stars were still shining elegantly by with the moon, although looking up wouldn't feel right; he felt dead already. He was panting so hard. It was like he had almost drowned. Hwoarang barely felt his arms then, but he didn't have a choice but to continue fighting. Even though Jin was purposely giving him the upper hand, he wasn't sure he'd survive the night.

Devil Jin crouched and pressed his palms flat on the ground, sitting like a bird on a tree branch. He flapped his wings as he watched his prey struggling to stand again. He had been silent for a while now, his eyes locked at the human so absently. His mind was in a feud, and voices were fighting for dominance. His demonic blood was boiling but slowly abating. _Kill him now_, the voices said. _Do not prolong his agony. Set him free._

Hwoarang spat some blood again and wiped his swollen lips with the back of his fist. "Damn. One more of that and my back's gonna break."

The demon didn't respond and remained sitting on the ground. His attention was absorbed by the voices talking in his brain, but his head kept track of his prey's movements, following everywhere it went._ Let the human have what he wants. End his life. Now._

The Korean stared back at the demon and took advantage to rest. He pressed his hand on his bruised stomach and let his broken arm just hung lifelessly by his side. He kept his eyes on Jin, willing to cut his resting time if his opponent decided to continue the fight. _What's taking him?_ Hwoarang furrowed his brows and tightened his grip.

The demon looked down to the ground, finally ending their staring match. He bit his lip, and blood gushed out of his darkened lips as his fangs dug into the thin skin. Jin shook his head slowly and straightened his knees. He stood, his shoulders and head slouched, and walked towards the human with sluggish and heavy steps.

"That you, Jin?"

Jin lifted his head and showed his human eyes for a while, but then they faded back into the pit of nothingness. His eyes glimmered red through the night and then turned back to clear silver. He opened his mouth and snarled, stretching his jaw as open as he could. Red lightning ran over his bare body and his strong wings fluttered again. _Kill him. Let his blood rain over you._

When things managed to register to the Korean, it was all too late. Jin caught his leg in a deadly grip and threw him around. He was flying and hitting the ground and trees like a ball. His most fragile bones were breaking with every foreign force touching his body. Hwoarang coughed out blood and started to feel his world turning crazily. He fluttered his eyes and saw nothing but a rush of things. He was flying backwards, sure he'd break something again. His back hit another sturdy tree. He let out a pained scream as he slid down to the cold ground.

"Shit," the red-headed Korean cursed as he tried to stand back up again, but before his sight even acquired its focus, he was caught by the leg. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, bracing his abused body for another hit, but none came. He opened his eyes and realized that he was hanging upside down.

"Is this the only thing worth taking from you?" Jin tightened his grip on the Korean's leg with a dark smile on his lips.

"W-what?" Hwoarang was still dazed, confused from the flights he took some time prior. His head was aching and he couldn't feel all the parts of his body. If he hadn't been able to see his limbs, he would have thought they'd already been cut off... or had fallen off while he was flung around, if that even were possible. His eyes settled at the hand around his leg. He saw the grip tighten and suddenly send of streaks of lightning up his body. He groaned out his pain, but he didn't struggle. He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't even sure if he can stay awake for any longer.

The Blood Talon grimaced at the pain and the uncomfortable position he was forced in. Everything strangely weighed on his head, which it started aching. He closed his eyes tight. "You fucking ask too many damn questions… you freaking bastard!" He glared at the demon swinging him lightly. His hands were flat on the ground; he could've fought back already if they only would have responded to his commands.

"You shorten your life when I offer you more of my precious time." Jin tightened his grip, using his paranormal strength to crush the bones in his hold. His elongated teeth clashed to one another with a grim smile.

The Korean cried out, tears threatening to spill in pain. "God damn it!" he cried again as he forced himself to use all the strength he had left to move his arms and take the gun on his back. He pulled the trigger and shot Jin, pushing him away and finally breaking free.

The demon growled, stepping back in surprise and a little pain. Jin fluttered his large wings in irritation and impulse from the shot. He blinked his eyes, which glowed red for a few times before they faded back to silver. _Let the human linger no longer. You are a demon. Hold no remorse._

Hwoarang lied flat on the ground, forgetting his opponent for a while as he rested. "Fuck." He closed his eyes and raced for his breath. He turned his head to the side and let his beat-up face feel the freezing ground and low flood brought on by the rain. His face numbed for a moment, and this seemed to chase away the dizziness. He bit his lip and opened his eyes, looking up to the raining sky.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Hwoarang gasped as he tried to stand up, but fell back flat to the ground. His leg was broken, and even sitting up was a pain. He dragged himself back under a large tree and leaned back. He panted, and tried again to stand up with the help of the tree. He gritted his teeth and whimpered in pain as he forced himself to stand. "Fuck! Shit!"

Jin simply watched him from a couple of feet away. He was back in his own shielded world, having a chat with the human who used to own the body and the mind. The human said stop. The demon snarled and said go. The winged beast shivered and lifted his gaze up into the starry sky.

"_Move before he kills us,"_ said the demon.

"_This is the end. I will see mother now,"_ replied the human.

Hwoarang tightened his grip on his broken leg and groaned in pain. He slammed himself against the tree bark and growled. "Damn. Someone up there must hate me." He opened an eye and saw the frozen demon facing him.

"_From whom did you hear demons getting into the gates of Heaven? That woman died as a human, but you will not,_" the demon reasoned.

"_What do you mean?_"

"_Demons do not have afterlives, Kazama Jin. You will not see your mother. If you die now, you will die as a demon. You will die like the rest of us. We never go anywhere after death. Demons never go to heaven. We have nowhere to go._"

"_I am not a demon. My parents… they were… human," _reasoned the human.

"_They were humans, and so were you. Demons are souls without bodies, and as we merge with those with life, we become one with them. You began to share your life with me from the moment you died. And you still do, Kazama Jin. You're still dead. It is my soul that keeps your heart beating. I am your life. I am the only thing left of you. You are long dead._"

"Jin!" Hwoarang called with a gasp. "Wake up, asshole! I don't want to do this!" He gritted his teeth as he brought the revolver up to the eye level, ready to shoot if things got out of hand again. His eyes closed involuntarily, as blood flowed down the lids from his forehead to his bruised cheeks. He wiped it off gently and grunted at its untimely occurrence.

The demon took the opportunity to attack. His claws were ready to strike and break anything they touched into tiny pieces. Everything went was so fast and the redhead once again, found himself trapped in a steady grasp. Devil Jin snarled as he brought his prey with his claw around his neck.

"_Stop it! Stop fighting already! You have served your purpose! Stand down, demon! Let him go!_"

"_My purpose? Wasn't it yours that was fulfilled? You have done revenge with my help, now I get my share._"

"_What share?_"

"_My payment, of course._"

"_Payment? What payment? I didn't know that demons such as you have interest in such things as well. So, how much do you desire?_"

"_You misunderstand, human._"

"_What do you want, then?_"

"_No need to worry yourself. It's already done._"

The demon growled, arching his back as his large black wings retracted under his burning skin, and stretched his jaw open as much as he could manage, as the pain continued to travel all over his transforming body. His large horns shrunk back slowly and the demonic markings vanished vanishing with simmering sounds, like water under an open fire. His demonic features were growing vague and his eyes reverted back to those dark brown orbs. He groaned in a human voice.

Jin dug his nails to the damp ground as he patiently waited for his sight to gain focus. He stared at the ground that was cold, yet felt so clammy. He blinked a few times before he realized why it was so. He gasped and hoped it was his. It was blood, thick and strewn. He lifted his stained hand up to his face and watched it shake. Somehow, he knew it wasn't whose he wished it to be, but he didn't want to believe it right away.

"Hwoa…rang." The memory of the man hit him like a bullet through his head. He lifted his head up and called again. "Hwoa…rang."

The dark-haired man struggled to stand up. He failed a few times before he successfully managed to straighten his buckling knees.Jin shivered as he felt the cold air hit his bare torso. He groaned and looked around. He saw nothing but blood. He gritted his teeth after realizing just how large a pool of blood he was in. He looked down to his feet and closed his eyes, trying to remember what had happened.

Blood dripped down his face, but it wasn't his. Jin was barely even scratched. He opened his eyes and wiped it off his face, feeling his stomach turn. The memories became so strangely vivid and came to him so fast. He fell down to his knees with his eyes grown large and round. He lifted his head and looked up in the sky. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut tightly to keep the threatening tears from falling.

"No," he weakly denied. "What have I done?"

His back was bleeding just where his wings came through, and now the same part of skin bulged and stretched, as the very same things scratched through. The lone human cried out, screaming all the pain out of his heart. The scene continued to replay so vividly. He felt like he was right there, watching when everything was happening. He fisted his black hair and pulled them away in hopes of lessening the pain.

He saw before his eyes how his canine teeth gnashed through the human's pale skin. The sound of limbs getting ripped and the tormented cries echoed in his ears. How many times it happened, he didn't know. The demon that took his body just kept taking the life that once saved his own. The memory of how the blood of the human flowed down his throat made him bend bent over and throw up. He clutched tightly to his stomach and even though his throat ached, he let out everything there was left to go.

The laugh of the demon filled his ears as his head started to feel so light. "_I was hungry… So sorry,_" it mocked.

* * *

**THE END.**

* * *

**Fenjien Ren:** If anyone would want to read the other two endings: the original and the other alternate one, just tell me. I'll send them to your e-mail when I'm done, so put where I should send them, too.

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**AUTHOR'S MESSAGES.  
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**HOIME G.**, you had been reading this fic and "The Punishment" ever since I published them, and just a few days ago, I found out you're reading Saly-Saly's fan fictions, too! I just want to thank you for spending your time reading them, for your support, for your reviews, and for all your love!

**SNOOK666**, you're one fun reader! Thank you for reading up until the end! Thank you for all your reviews!

**ANGELEYES87**, thank you for reading!

**LIPHZ**, I think you don't have to wait for anything anymore, huh? Hope you like it! Thanks to you, too!

**STAR ANISE**, thank you for your comment. I tried considering that, but I just longed for something... unusual. But the thought of exorcision gave way to this ending. I hope you like how I made it turn out. Thank you, too!

**AOIXBARAXTENSHI**, your comment serious got me. Thank you for reading!

**SALYSHA**, you're the last one but certainly not the least! You're the person I owe most of the thanks to! Thank you for beta-ing this fiction, for your patience in correcting my crappy english, for encouraging me to continue writing when I thought that I sucked great, and for being a great friend! THANK YOU SO MUCH!


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